


Definitely Not The Worst Plan Ever

by SeleneLavellan



Series: Dirthalene [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Dirthalene, F/M, Fake Dating Holiday AU, Fake relationship for the holidays, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feynite Fanwork, First time posting here, Multi, That seems like the easiest way to do this yeah?, This fic has very little to do with Dragon Age, except maybe mythal but does she really count?, holiday au, i will add tags as needed i guess???, no canon appearing characters here, thats it i've officially corrupted this site with that tag no going back, there are so many tags on this site jfc what do i use, we'll see how it goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-08-30 01:45:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeleneLavellan/pseuds/SeleneLavellan
Summary: “One thing, first,” She says,standing to reach out before he gets too far away. “Why me?”He blinks, as his shoulders and chin drop nearly imperceptibly. His mouth opens, and then closes again while he carefully chooses his words.“When considering who in my life I would be most likely to mourn the loss of,” he finally answers. “Yours was the face I found myself lingering on longest.”A fake dating holiday AU for my OC, Selene Lavellan and Dirthamen Evanuris, based on the writings of Feynite's body of work.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I've been posting on tumblr for years and finally caved and decided to try posting some things over here on AO3 as well, at the request of...more than a few people.  
> Thanks for checking out my work, and I hope you enjoy these pining idiots <3\. Dirthamen and the Evanuris family are based on Feynite's works and characterizations.

“I require a date.”

Selene blinks up from her desk, glasses sliding just slightly down the bridge of her nose as she blinks up at the man standing across from her.

“Um,” she manages. “I don’t think…I mean, you used to be my boss. Isn’t that against some HR policy, or something?”

 

“Since your last promotion, you technically work for a corporation that my sister Sylaise is running. Although we still work in the same physical space, I am no longer your direct superior,” Dirthamen explains.

Selene nods, slowly.

“She is already married.” He continues, as though that might illuminate the situation.

 

“Right…” Selene says, hands finally pulling away from her keyboard to settle in her lap.

“I’m just a bit confused about what exactly is happening right now. You said you need a date; do you want me to hook you up with my roommate?”

“Ah,” He says. “No, though I am sure they are very nice as well. I was asking you.”

“You didn’t actually  _ask,_ though,” Selene mentions, gently as she can.  “And you did use the word ‘require’, which makes it seem fairly non-optional.”

 

This time at least, he seems to be the one caught off-guard.

“I apologize,” He says. “It is not a real date.”

 

She squints.

Leans back in her computer chair, and runs her hand through the curls of her ponytail.

“Ok. I’m sure this conversation makes sense to you right now, but I need some elaboration, Dirthamen, please.”

 

“My family often has several pressing events to attend during the holiday season. Although we occasionally gather throughout the year, there is substantial weight placed upon our personal growth at these events,” 

He shifts his weight slightly from one foot to the next.  

“Both of my sisters have obtained paramours that they are able to bring each year already, and my mother and father have all but given up on my brother obtaining anyone that might…last, under the weight of his affections,” he evades. 

“At our lunch today, my mother placed substantial emphasis on my own need for a partner, and while in the past I have been able to dismiss such claims, she made it very clear that if I was unable to find a partner for myself, she would find one for me,” He pauses, and glances down at the ground for a moment. “I do not think I would enjoy the partners she might choose. And so, I require a date.”

 

Selene tilts her head in consideration. “Alright…but you said it’s not a 'real’ date? What does that mean?”

“Yes. We need only make it appear as though we are involved in a relationship to appease my families inclinations. There would be no pressure on you to actually make any romantic or sexual connection towards me, and we could end the relationship after wintersend has passed.”

“Wouldn’t that put you right back in your current predicament in a few months?”

“It is my understanding that when relationships end, there is what is often referred to as a ‘mourning period’. This can last anywhere from a few hours to several years, depending on how great the loss is. That should give my mother adequate time to find some other aspect of my life she is unhappy with that she might focus her attentions on.”

 

Selene nods again.

 

It’s not…the  _worst_  plan she’s ever heard of.

 

She certainly enjoys Dirthamens company enough; they’ve already been sharing an office floor for several years, and although their conversations are nearly always work-oriented, he seems quite nice. She’s never seen him lose his temper, or become violent in any way. When he becomes stressed he seems to become more tired than anything, and tends to just fall asleep either in his own office or on the couch in the space between their conference rooms.

He’s not bad to look at, either.

 

It would stop Des from trying to set her up for the holidays this year. No more pitying looks when he comes home wrapped in garland and covered in body glitter, trying to ply her into a threeway with the 'great guy’ he just met, or dragging her off to one of his friends parties that always devolves into a gropefest.

A holiday off could be just what she needs, really.

 

“I’ll do it,” She agrees.

 

His face lights up, and she feels herself warm as a smile overtakes her own face in return.

 

“Thank you,” He says, turning towards their kitchenette. “I will go make a fresh pot of coffee to celebrate.”

 

“One thing, first,” She says,standing to reach out before he gets too far away. “Why me?”

 

He blinks, as his shoulders and chin drop nearly imperceptibly. His mouth opens, and then closes again, while he carefully chooses his words.

“When considering who in my life I would be most likely to mourn the loss of,” he finally answers. “Yours was the face I found myself lingering on longest.”

 

Selene swallows around the sudden dryness of her mouth as her arm falls back to her side and her stomach flips.

“Oh,” she manages. “…Thank you?”

 

He only bobs his head up and down slightly in acknowledgment. “I will make the coffee.”

–

 

 

“You’re finally banging your boss,” Des sighs wistfully. “Living the dream. I’m envious, you know. Are you going to get another promotion now?”

 

Selene shakes her head, tossing the vegetables in the pan at the same time. “I’m not banging him, and he’s not my boss. Technically, I work for his sister.”

“So you  _are_  getting a promotion?”

 

Selene shoots Des a  _look,_ and flips the vegetables again. “I didn’t ask. I’m pretty sure the only way for me to get promoted at this point would be to actually marry someone in the Evanuris blood line anyways. I’m already heading the accounts of several of their shell corporations; Dirthamen heads the rest.”

“You mean the only way to move up in the company would be to marry, oh say for example, Dirthamen  _Evanuris_ , your boss whom you are dating and almost certainly soon to bang?” Des grins.

 

“I’m not going to-”She breaks off, words from earlier repeating in her head.

_Yours was the face I found myself lingering on_

“…Oh shut up,” She grumbles as she feels her face heat and her heart thump loudly in her chest. Stupid sweet, pretty, brilliant billionaire.

 

This  _might_  be a little more complicated than she planned on.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selene meets the family.

“So…” Selene whispers, rubbing her hands together in a poor attempt to warm herself up. “A tree lighting.”

“Yes,” Dirthamen says from his space beside her, tall and straight and appropriately bundled in a thick scarf and several layers of coats and gloves and probably some very long socks.

Socks that are likely much, much more useful than the stupid stockings Des had tossed at her while insisting they work ‘just as well’.

They bloody well  _don’t._

 

“I assumed we’d be watching from the park. Like the rest of the crowd.”

“That is…not the way my family works.”

“Yep,” Selene nods, holding back on her grimace as she overlooks the swarm of people completely filling in the courtyard around the ornately decorated Vhenadahl, decked out in ribbons and strings of lights and dangling pieces of glass and plastics from the private balcony they had been ushered to. She hadn’t even known private balconies  _existed_  inside the alienage. “Picked up on that.”

 

“We do not have to stay the full length of the party,” He assures her. “Once my father has finished with the lights, we should only need to stay for an hour or two before we may take our leave.”

“Right,” Selene nods, tamping down on a chill as another gust of wind blows through her. “The party itself is  _indoors_  though, I hope?”

“It is.”

“Thank the gods,” She sighs in relief, both at his answer and as the long haired figure of his father steps out into the courtyard to a raucous wave of cheers.

 

The ceremony itself isn’t too terribly long, at least. Elgar'nan Evanuris makes a stirring speech about the endurance of the elven people and the techs only need to turn the microphone down once to adjust for the boom of his voice, which is far from the worst she’s seen. At one of the quarterly reviews he showed up to, they had to shut down the microphone entirely only a few minutes into his speech because he just didn’t  _need_  it in the size of the hall they were occupying. 

Selene glances over at Dirthamen and wonders for a moment how such a soft, internally drawn and quiet man, came from someone who can throw open his arms and simultaneously light  _hundreds_  of candles surrounding the courtyard, sending wisps to light up and across the stretching branches of the vhenadahl, the strings of light following their trails while the crowd cheers and applauds and breaks out into celebration at the echo of his laugh.

 

“It’s a bit sanctimonious, isn’t it?” Selene mentions without thought, eyes still staring at the lights dancing around the large sacred tree. “I mean, his name is  _Elgar'nan_. He’s already been named after the god of the sun, but he’s here, lighting up the one thing city elves have left to celebrate their heritage with, the one shred of their culture they’ve managed to cling to and he’s opened it up to anyone willing to pay an entry fee,” Selene glances around the courtyard, and sees no trace of the usual occupants of the alienage. No children in clothing of the wrong size, no adults with faces gaunt from hunger rather than surgery, not even a particularly large proportion of elves to humans, all things considered. “And closed it off to anyone who couldn’t, it seems.”

 

“Many of these events will be sanctimonious,” Dirthamen admits quietly beside her. “It is the way things are done.”

 

“Why?” Selene asks, staring up at the sky overhead. Most of the stars are imperceptible from their balcony, dimmed out by the light of the tree and the surrounding city. “Who is this sort of event actually for…?”

Dirthamen is staring at her when she finally looks away from the dark of the night, the tips of his ears and nose rosy in the cold of the evening air.

His expression is difficult to read, even for her.

 

“Sorry,” She says, hands wringing slightly. “I didn’t mean-I didn’t mean any offense.”

“None was taken,” He assures her.

 

There is another gust of wind and this time Selene can’t help but shiver as the cold of it rushes through her, raising goosebumps and pushing her curls into her face. Her hand has barely pushed them out of her eyes before Dirthamen has closed the distance between them, taking her hand in his as he shoves one of his gloves over it.

Selene swallows, her view all at once consumed by the grey blue of his eyes, distracted as they are with her hand.

“I should have given you more adequate instructions for keeping warm at these events,” He apologizes, tugging slightly on the band wrapped around her wrist to ensure it is covering her quite snugly. The material is very soft, but covering her hand has left his own bare and exposed and it shouldn’t feel quite so  _scandalous,_ really. But something about the naked skin contrasted with the rest of his dark layers feels intensely intimate, and the fact that the only thing separating that skin from her own is a very soft, pliant material feels at once not enough of a barrier and far, far too much of one.

She opens her mouth, ostensibly to thank him for the glove, but the sound of her actual boss interrupts the moment before she can.

 

“Sel _ene_!” Sylaise Evanuris calls as she strides out onto the balcony. “I’d heard the rumors, but imagine my shock to see it with my own eyes-you really are dating my brother!”

 

“Sylaise!” Selene greets, yanking her hand out of Dirthamens grasp without thought. “Yes-I-yes. We’re dating! Yes!”

“Sister,” Dirthamen greets with a polite nod of his head, tucking his bared hand into the pocket of his coat.

 

“And he’s just hogging you all to himself out here, hm?” She tsks, looping her arm through Selenes elbow. “Poor dear. You must be  _freezing_ , and he hasn’t even offered you his coat I’ll bet. It’s not his fault, he simply missed out on the sense gene of the family. He’ll learn, certainly you’ll teach him now won’t you,  _sister dearest_?”

“Uh-”

“Of course his sense of dress could use an upgrade as well. I suppose if you’re into the all black but not quite stylish enough to be Gothic look he’s doing well enough, but honestly he acts as though he’s allergic to color sometimes. I’m sure you’ll get him all squared up there though, your wardrobe is full of colors from what I recall isn’t it?”

“I like Dirthamens clothes-”

“Well that’s because he can get  _away_  with it. He’s quite handsome underneath everything, good genes you know, but if he’d just put in a bit of  _effort-”_

“I imagine the good looking genes are the ones he shares with you,” Selene interjects, eager to get Sylaise onto literally any topic other than Dirthamens perceived flaws.

 

It works.

Sylaise lights up, mouth stretching into a grin Selene swears she’s seen on Des as she tightens the arm she has looped through her elbow and starts pulling her into the party

“Well of course it is! It skips a generation you know, poor Falon'din and Andruil just can’t compare so they make up with it by being brutes barely capable of holding a conversation that doesn’t involve describing some gruesome scene, but I’m sure you’re already  _well_ familiar with all that.”

 

“She hasn’t met the rest of the family yet,” Dirthamen mentions from where he is trailing behind them. “This is her first event, and I was hoping to put off-”

“Oh!” Sylaise exclaims, tugging Selene off to a sharp right. “Well, we’ll have to fix that then won’t we.”

  
Selene shoots Dirthamen one last glance, mouthing out the word _'HELP’_ as clearly as she can manage, but Sylaise is too used to the movement of crowds, slipping smoothly through swaths of people and leaving Dirthamen far behind them.

 

There’s a reassuring pat on her arm as he vanishes and Selene glances down at Sylaise who seems much more calm and composed than she had only a moment ago.

“Don’t worry,” She says. “If I left it up to Dirthamen he’d be dithering on the balcony with you all night, and it’ll only make things worse if you wait. Better for Falon'din to see you away from him, first.”

 

Selene blinks, temporarily impressed with Sylaise.

 

“Ah, there’s Andruil! Give me a moment to ply her away from her wife and make sure they’re both decent for you to say hello to.”

 

…And then it’s gone, the same sort of unsettled and out of place feeling she gets from going out with Des heavy in her gut.

 

“Selene,” Sylaise says, returning with a taller elven woman with similar soft facial features but hair dark and jaw as sharp as Dirthamens “This is Andruil, my elder sister. Her wife Ghilan'nain will be joining us in a moment, I believe…?” Sylaise glances up at Andruil for confirmation, but gets only a shrug for her trouble.

 

“'Sup,” Andruil greets. “You’re the one dating Dirthamen?”

“Word travels fast,” Selene says, trying for a smile.

“It’s big news,” Andruil admits. “He doesn’t really…do things. Or people,” she snickers.

Selene lets the smile drop, straightening her spine enough that with the added inch from her heels, she manages to stand just taller than the other woman. “Agree to disagree, I suppose.”

 

“So you are having sex then?” Adds in another voice, skulking out of the corner. A smaller woman wearing a headband with what look like golden halla horns growing out of it appears and slides her fingers through Andruils, practically leaning on her wives left side. “There’s a betting pool going you know. Not about his sex life, just in general.”

 

“That’s…” Selene hesitates. 

Nope, she can’t think of a better word right now. 

“…weird.”

 

“Would you like to join it?” Ghilan'nain asks, sounding somehow as though she doesn’t care either way but is also very invested in the answer.

“Mmmmaybe?” Selene manages.

This seems to be the right answer, as Ghilan'nains features soften into a smile. 

“That’s good. I’ll add your name.”

“Wait, what are you putting me down as betting on-”

 

“Oh, they’ve finally brought out the sangria!” Sylaise interrupts. “Selene, come share some with me. I’m sure introductions were lovely, but we have lots to see tonight!”

Selene frowns and attempts a polite wave as Sylaise drags her away from the pair and towards the refreshment table.

 

“It’s better not to ask Ghilan'nain too many questions,” She advises. “Most of the time, you won’t like the answers.”

“Right…” Selene says, taking the glass from Sylaise and stabbing one of the floating strawberry bits with the small plastic sun placed on the edge. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“Let’s see…”Sylaise hums, scoping out the crowd. “You still need to meet June, but I’ll save the best for last. Father will still be busy with the children from the event for a bit longer still, mother is likely doing her own rounds, so that leaves….” She trails off. “Has Dirthamen told you about Falon'din before?”

 

Selene shakes her head, pulling the sun-stick out of her mouth and swallowing the alcohol soaked piece of strawberry. “Only in passing. Sometimes he comes into the office looking more tired than usual, and his answer is usually just that his brother is visiting, but he never goes into detail.”

“Do you talk often, in the office?”

  
Selene shrugs. “Mostly just about work.”

 

Sylaise hums, stirring her drink. “And how exactly did my brother manage to make the leap to ask you out? And how did you say  _yes_? Surely there’s a story there.”

 

She misses the apple slice she was attempting to stab, freezing slightly.

Shit, they’d never discussed their story, had they?

Just that they were pretending to date.

… _shit_.

 

“I forgot my lunch one day,” She lies. “And he offered to buy me dinner, too. Not a particularly eventful story, I’m afraid.”

“A smoother line than I would’ve thought my brother capable of,” Sylaise says with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah well,” Selene shrugs. “…He’s full of surprises.”

Sylaise makes another humming noise. “And you said yes because…?”

 

Selene stares down into her cup, unable to look Sylaise in the face as her own heats up. “I mean, even  _you_  admitted he’s handsome. And we’ve been sharing a space for so long, he’s already a part of my life, and he’s very kind and brilliant and I mean, sure it takes some time to understand him but so what, right? He’s a good person and I’m lucky just to be near him, and really, how could someone  _not_ like him when he’s always saying sweet things and being sincere and just…” Selene shrugs, quietly admitting. “I said yes because I couldn’t even conceive the idea of saying no, really. Maybe not the most romantic notion, but…”

Sylaise nudges Selenes shoulder slightly with her own, smiling widely over. 

“I think it’s  _very_  romantic. Alright, you officially have my blessing. Try not to hurt him though; he bruises like a peach.”

 

Selene blinks, pushing down on the guilt of knowing that their relationship isn’t even real, and is on a nearly-literal ticking clock; Dirthamen has already marked their 'break-up’ day on their private office calendar.

“I’ll do my best.”

–

 

Meeting Falon'din is like a whirlwind.

 

One moment she is chatting with Elgar'nan about different theories of fire magics, and the next there is a heavily tattooed man yanking her hand so hard that her wrist nearly twists.

Her vision whites out on instinct, fire growing in her opposite hand as she readies herself to throw it directly into his face and run for the nearest exit-

But Sylaise’s hand rests on her shoulder, yanking her consciousness back into her body and forcefully grounding her.

 

“ _Where_  did you steal this from?!” The man screams, holding her hand up between them.

The hand still wearing Dirthamens glove, from the balcony.

She’d completely forgotten to remove it, when she came inside.

 

“I-”

“You think you can just take shit that doesn’t belong to you?” He throws her hand down forcefully, and she hears her shoulder click from the force of it. She lets out a slow breath, counting in her head to try to keep her cool. She can’t lose her cool, not here, not now.

 

He shoves her.

She loses count.

 

He’s yelling, and Elgar'nan is yelling and her ears stop working and the room starts spinning and someone is saying her name and someone else is saying something about her and then a fist with thick rings wraps around her throat-

And she doesn’t think.

 

She pushes him.

 

…she meant, to push him. Just to get him to let her go, to stop touching her, to get some breathing room back, just enough for a personal bubble.

 

What she did, though, was fling him across the length of the ballroom with a large white-hot fireball and slam him into the opposite wall.

 

There is smoke coming from the ashen remains of his coat and the burned skin of his abdomen.

 

The room is dead silent.

Her hands fly up to cover her mouth in shock, in fear.

In embarrassment.

 

Ghilan'nain lets out a loud, cackling laugh that breaks through the silence.

 

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry-I didn’t mean-I just-!” Selene tries, stepping towards the elven man just starting to rise to his feet.

Falon'din points an accusatory finger towards her, the other hand carefully hovering over his burns “Did you see what that fucking bitch tried to do to me?! I want her thrown out! I want her jailed! She tried to  _murder_  me-!”

“That is enough.”

 

The voice of the Evanuris family matriarch cuts through the room. The sea of people parts as Mythal Evanuris steps to her sons side.

 

“Mother-”

  
“I said  _enough,_ Falon'din” she tsks, hands perfectly posed in front of herself. “Go compose yourself, and we can discuss things further when you are in a less manic state.”

 

Selene wishes for a moment that she could shrink. That she could vanish into the crowd and run and start a new life somewhere else, far away from here.

But she has worked hard to earn what she has now; starting over for a third time sounds exhausting.

And it would require her to leave Dirthamen, who is staring at her now, aghast, from beside Andruil and the still giggling Ghilan'nain.

 

“You,” Mythal says to Selene, snapping her attention back to the situation at hand. “will come with me.”

 

It’s not a request.

 

Selene swallows, and quickly follows behind the exiting CEO as the rest of the party goes back to its previous conversations.

 

Mythal walks down a long series of hallways and turns into a room on the right hand side of the building,  leaving the door open in her wake.

Selene follows silently, lingering just inside the room.

 

“Close the door and take a seat, child,” Mythal says, pouring two glasses of wine out on an old wooden desk, and sitting down in a chair that looks more like a throne.

 

“We have much to discuss.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirthamen meets Des

The cardboard cup lands carefully on the edge of her desk, long fingers slowly grazing the edges at they pull away from the beverage. A deep emerald green for the holidays, emblazoned with the logo of her favorite local coffee shop that sits only a few blocks away. Selene had meant to grab herself a cup on her way in this morning- her usual personal pick up perk when she's not feeling her best-, but had overslept in her exhaustion and missed her chance.

Something Dirthamen seems to have noticed himself.

 

Selene grins sheepishly up at him, glasses falling slightly down the bridge of her nose as she takes the drink with a quiet word of thanks.

 

“Did you make it home safely?” He asks, words tinted with the sort of trepidation she thought he had long moved past using with her.

But, given the circumstances...

 

“I did,” She admits. “Your mother was gracious enough to call me a car after our...encounter.”

 

She watches as his lips quirk subtly in each corner, and feels a tension she hadn't realized she was holding melt away from her at the return of their usual familiarity. “Is that what you are calling it?”

“Well, 'gracious' probably isn't the most appropriate word either, but it's the most polite,” Selene teases. “She is still your mother after all.”

Dirthamen makes a soft, noncommittal noise of confirmation and takes a sip of his coffee.

 

 

Selene taps her fingers against the sides of her own drink, and contemplates whether or not she should tell him.

He's got a right to know, right? Mythals supposed desire for him to have a partner is the whole reason they're doing this dating thing, after all.

 

 

“Dirthamen...” She finally ventures.

“Yes?”

“Your mother....” She sighs. “ _Mythal_ , asked me to leave you last night, while we were talking. And she offered me a not-inconsequential amount of money to do so.”

 

He looks less surprised than she thought he would at the news.

She's not sure why that bothers her so much.

 

“How much did she offer you?” He finally asks.

“About five times my yearly salary,” Selene admits. “ _Before_ taxes.”

 

Dirthamens eyebrows raise at that, at least.

 

“That's a ludicrous amount of money, Dirthamen,” Selene continues, emphasizing with her hands out between them. “I'm paid _well_ here. Like, really, _really_ well. And she offered me five times that in a single payout, just to stop dating you. Is there something you're not telling me about this situation? Some heiress or...or distant royalty or something that you're secretly betrothed to? Or does she just _really_ hate me that much?”

“I do not think she hates you,” Dirthamen says. “My brother does, though that is unsurprising. I also do not believe I am secretly betrothed, however.”

“Then why would she offer me so much money to break up with you?”

“I do not know,” He admits. “My mothers workings are often hidden behind several layers of subtleties and tricks that I am not yet adept at understanding.”

 

Selene frowns, and finally takes a drink from her own coffee.

_Oh,_ she realizes as the white chocolate flavor coats her tongue. _He got my order right_.

 

He shuffles slightly on his feet, and stares at the wall behind her.

“Are you going to continue working here?”

 

Selene blinks.

“I...yes? Why wouldn't I?”

“As you said, it is a not-inconsequential amount of money. You do not need to work any longer, with so much at your disposal.”

 

Selene straightens in her seat, and tries not to look as insulted as she feels.

“I didn't take the money, you know.”

 

His eyes land square on her face at her proclamation.

“Why not?”

“Because...” She huffs. “Because why _would_ I? I like my job, I like my lifestyle, I like-”

_You_ , she almost says without thinking.

“...things the way they are.”

 

He blinks.

Slowly.

His eyebrows scrunch together, like he is working on a puzzle and only now realizing half of the pieces are meant to be in a separate box.

“We are going to break up, though.”

 

Her stomach knots, and her hand tightens slightly around her cup. She has to make a conscious decision to relax it again, as she lets out a breath.

“Yes. Of course,” She says because, _Yes, of course_. Of course they are going to break up; they are only pretending to be dating. Not actually...Her mind and heart have run off without her, again. This is a professional arrangement. A favor for a friend, at best.

A friend she is...potentially having new emotions for.

Her gaze darts down to his hand, her mind flashing back to the night before. Gloves, and contact, and long fingers gripping her own, keeping them warm-

 

She drags her hand down her face in frustration as she feels flames licking gently beneath her skin, stoked by thoughts of a _perfectly innocent interaction_ that she's gone and run away with, wildly out of context.

 

“It's fine,” She finally says. “It's just money. I gave you my word, and we had an agreement. I'm not going to back out of that.”

 

He's silent for a moment, the tips of his ears turning a lovely shade of pink before he finally clears his throat.

“...Thank you.”

 

She nods her head in acknowledgment, staring awkwardly at the hardwood floors.

“I should...return to my own office,” He manages, pointing at his door.

Selene nods again, and holds up her drink. “Thank you for the coffee, by the way. It's my favorite.”

“Yes,” He says. “It was no problem.”

–

 

 

It's a few hours past lunchtime when she finally knocks on Dirthamens office door.

 

“Come in,” he calls.

 

Selene pushes the door inward, poking just her head in with a grin.

“So...you know how I agreed to go to all of those events of your families for the holiday season? As part of our arrangement?”

 

“Yes,” Dirthamen says, glancing away from his computer monitor only briefly, hands not even slowing in his calculations as he types.

“I need you to go to a thing with _me_ , now.”

 

The clacking of the keyboard stops, as he looks at her again.

“Oh. Yes, of course. What is the event?”

“Dinner?” She says meekly, stepping fully into his office now and wringing her hands slightly. “Not a big one. At my house. With my roommate. Well, I say roommate, Des is-well, no, he _is_ my roommate. He just doesn't think-” She sighs, bouncing slightly on her heels. “He thinks I'm lying. About dating you.”

 

“You _are_ lying,” Dirthamen points out.

 

“Not helpful!” She argues. “My side of this arrangement is that dating you means he can't drag me to his parties. If he thinks we're not really dating and I'm just lying to get out of it, he's going to make me go anyways.”

 

“...You _are_ lying to get out of it-”

 

“ _Listen,_ ” Selene insists, leaning with both hands against the edge of his desk. “I need you to go to this dinner and help me convince Des that we are head-over-heels in puppy love with one another, or you're going to have to have sex with me somewhere in this office in a way that I will _reek_ of the activity before I go home tonight.”

 

Dirthamen blinks, and she watches as his eyes slowly trail towards the couch in the space between their offices. Selene fiercely pushes down the mental image of dragging him towards it with his tie wrapped around her fist, pulling him down on top of her or crawling into his lap and sliding her mouth over his, tasting and delving and-

“We're having chicken,” She decides, voice only cracking slightly. “We'll take my car.”

 

–

Selene texts Des from the elevator, reminding him that she is bringing home her boyfriend and that he needs to please be fully dressed when they arrive.

 

He shoots back with _'sharing is caring'._

 

But he is dressed when he answers the door, when Dirthamen walks in with the spare bottle of white wine he keeps in his office for situations like these (How often he finds himself in these situations, she didn't bother asking), and when he gives him a hug and directs him to the guest bathroom down the hall so that he can wash up a bit after the long work day.

 

He's still dressed, in one of his nicer shirts even, when he turns to Selene with a knowing grin and says “You two are so full of _shit_.”

 

Selene frowns and pulls the wine from Des's grip, moving into the kitchen to chill it as she responds with an innocent “What are you talking about?”

“You're not in love with each other,” he snickers. “C'mon, the poor guy looked like he was going to explode when he brushed your shoulder in the doorway. That was the face of someone who's barely even held hands since grade school, not someone getting laid on a regular basis.”

“We're taking things slow,” Selene shrugs. “There's nothing wrong with that.”

 

Des crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. “Sure, sure. But I've known you since we were kids, Selene. Give me a little credit here.”

“Credit for what?” She nearly laughs. “You didn't believe me, and now Dirthamen is here to show you that yes, we really are dating and I'm not lying and our relationship is perfectly fine and good and normal.”

Des cups his face in one hand and makes a poor attempt to stifle a grin. “You've always been a terrible liar, babe. I hope your 'boyfriend' has a better poker face than you do.”

“Don't make air quotes when you call him that!”

“Don't lie to me then.”

“I'm not-”

Selene stops at the sound of familiar footfalls, crossing her arms petulantly over her chest as Dirthamen appears behind Des, face freshly washed and hair re-styled to look less worn-down by the day.

A shame, really. She sort of likes when his hair is tousled from his fingers running through the strands. It always looks so _soft_.

 

Des is staring at her like he can read her mind, and it's _infuriating_.

 

“Dinner's in the oven,” Selene announces, noting the remaining timer. “Shall we move to the living room?”

 

“Sure,” Des chirps. “Tell me, Dirthamen; do you play poker?”

 

“ _No_.” Selene answers for him.

–

 

There's no poker, but Dirthamen does turn out to be fairly good at Settlers of Catan. Des pouts as he hands over his previously won Longest Road card, giving Dirthamen the first win of the night.

 

“So,” Des drawls, leaning into Dirthamens space. “What drew you to Selene, hm?”

Dirthamen looks slightly caught off guard, and she can't really blame him.

 

“I mean, she's hot of course,” Des continues, gesturing to Selene. “And rich, but you're richer. So why her, hm?”

“ _Des,_ ” Selene hisses, kicking out at him under the coffee table. Poorly though, she ends up knocking the both of them when her leg straightens.

“Selene and I have been working in the same space for nearly three years now,” Dirthamen answers, unperturbed by the line of questioning.

 

“So, just _convenient_ then?” Des hums in disapproval, eyes darting over to Selene who is clenching and unclenching her hands in her lap and trying not to feel mortified.

 

“That is part of it,” Dirthamen admits. “But there are much more intriguing aspects to Selene.”

“Such as?” Des pushes, one eyebrow raising as he leans even closer.

“She is very brilliant. I have yet to find any discrepancies that she has not already caught. She is also kind to everyone whom I have seen cross her path. I have recently discovered she is also very strong, physically, magically, and emotionally,” He hesitates for a moment, swallowing as his ears begin to tint pink again. “And unerringly loyal. Even to those who do not always deserve it. There are many engrossing qualities to Selene that first drew my interest, and each one only serves to reveal more that I am eager to discover through our time together.”

 

Selene swallows, throat dry and face warm.

_It's not true,_ she reminds herself. _He's just selling the lie. It's part of the arrangement. None of this is_ _ **real**_ _._

_It's just what he thinks Des wants to hear. Nothing more._

 

The oven timer begin to beep and Selene nearly knocks the coffee table over in her haste to get up, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“I got it!” She announces, dismissing herself without another word.

 

It's a lie.

 

It's not real.

 

She's falling for an act.

An act she agreed to play a part in.

 

Damn.

 

Damn, _damn,_ _ **damn**_ _._

 

She doesn't even remember taking the chicken out of the oven, vision blurry as she hastily turns on the kitchen sink. She sniffs and wipes at her cheeks with her wrists, berating herself for her stupidity.

It's not real. She knows that, she _knows_ it. The only part he was telling the truth about was that it was convenient for him. She was around and she was dumb enough to agree to this stupid painful thing they're doing and Des was right and she hates it when he's right because it's always about stuff like this and it always hurts and Dirthamen isn't like Haleir but it hurts anyways because she fell for the lies of a pretty elf again and let herself think for a little bit that what he was saying was _**real**_ and that there was something good and worthwhile about her.

 

It'll never be real.

 

She sniffs, and lets out a shaky breath.

 

She _is_ worthwhile. She's proved that-she's abandoned her blood and her past and started over from nothing and risen nearly to the top in one of the most powerful business empires in Thedas. She has earned her home and her life and her freedoms, and she has done it on her own merits.

The opinions of a pretty elf have no bearing on any of those things.

 

Selene lets out another breath. Sturdier, this time. Grounding.

 

She turns, and begins setting the plates for dinner.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Wanted to make sure I got out at least one more piece of this before the holidays hit. Still trying my best to import all my old pieces from tumblr, but it's slow going. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed some new content <3.


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